Frankenstein's Secret
by recipe for insanity
Summary: When a Wammy boy secretly outshines a government agency, a service employee is sent to investigate. Too bad for the agency, L and Quillish Wammy have already taken care of the situation.


_gratuitous psych terminology in justification of philosophical debates_

_**A/N**: Merriam-Webster Dictionary's definition of alien: 1. EXOTIC 2. differing in nature or character typically to the point of incompatibility... And again conspiracy theories are my own and mysterious agency is any governmental place you think might like super-engineered genii._

* * *

The mansion was completely innocuous and picture-perfect as only a Victorian-era mansion could be on an idyllic countryside estate. Roger Ruvie took in amusedly the understated elegance of the place as he walked through the gates. Much of his apprehension flew away on the soft autumn breeze sweeping around him now that the audacious claims of the tribunal felt less truthful in the presence of the reality he now faced. If their stories were to be believed, there should have been great turrets with ragged electrical-collecting devices haphazardly hanging out the windows or gargantuan satellites for summoning aliens from their other-world dimensions. How could this charming building be home to the terrors he had been told to look for here?

Roger pushed the doorbell before his thoughts completely wandered into the absurd. As the bell twittered along the walls and echoed throughout the rooms, a couple of loud calls presumably up stairs were made in hopes that an adult would appear. Even with all the patters of feet, muffled giggles and evidence that there were numerous able-bodied beings around to respond, no one seemed inclined to open the door. When the large wooden door did swing open though, Roger couldn't have been more surprised by the face that greeted him than if aliens did indeed inhabit the place.

"Quillish Wammy!" he said happily. "How are you? What's it been? Ten years?" he asked, stepping over the threshold into a sunny-filled foyer. His hand outstretched to shake the other man's. "And what're you doing here?" he added as Wammy grasped his hand in a firm shake.

"Same as you I suppose, old chap," Wammy replied cheerily. "Staying busy."

"This hardly seems the place for you." Roger shrugged out of his coat handing it over to Wammy who hung it on a hook surrounded by many others all covered by various-sized grey pea coats. He looked at Wammy questioningly, "the boys don't mind wearing the same thing as the girls?"

"Uniformity allows greater control. You know that," Wammy explained cautiously, his stance stiffening and the previous affability gone from his voice.

Roger took the hint. "Do they get to keep any belongings from their old lives?" he asked, not bothering to explain his purpose here or ask Wammy's role. He might not be as keen-minded as the other man, but neither was he without his own merits.

"No," and the infuriating man didn't elaborate. He simply moved on, motioning for Roger to follow him and speaking without turning to see if Roger was listening. "You'll want to conduct your interviews in a non-threatening area. The commons or library will do. Which one would you prefer?"

Roger should have known better. No one found themselves hand-picked for "special" missions without reason. Certain government officials had declared him the best candidate for this one. They mentioned his clinical psych background and his well-know dislike of children to keep him unbiased. How unsurprising that they failed to mention he would be interrogating an old spy buddy and investigating his activities. Wasn't it just like that damn bunch of bureaucrats to set him up without all the information, and work him into a fiery ball of moral umbrage before siccing him on his former partner.

"The commons will be fine. Shall I start with you?" he asked haughtily, grabbing the door to hold it open for Wammy and barring the exit behind them. Guilt washed over him as Wammy sized him up before letting him have his way. The small victory did nothing to disperse the feeling he was about to stab a friend in the back.

"But of course, Roger, you should question me first. I am after all the proprietor of this… how did they put it, 'sanatorium of freaks and pests led by a crazed innovator hell bent on creating a robotic army of genii brats.'"

The jovial laugh Wammy emitted didn't quite match the accusing glint in his eye, but Roger wasn't here to coddle anyone's feelings. He was here to do his job even if it meant going up against the one person who deserved his loyalty over all others. Damn the agency and their stupid mind games!

They sat down and Roger pulled out the records he had been given just this morning on his way over to the orphanage. "You know what you stand accused of doing?" he asked as he sorted through the papers to find the report he needed to make notes upon.

"I believe you will find you should already have the answer to that question," Wammy said, all fake-friendly smiles.

"Ah, yes. What I cannot discover is why?" Roger wondered meeting Wammy's open gaze. "Everything seemed fine until a few months ago. What did you do to incur the agency's wrath?"

"Unfortunately, there was an incident involving a high-ranked officer, an eleven-year-old marksman, and an uncooperative terrorist." Wammy shrugged. "They got what they asked for. Really though, we could've been a bit more discreet in who we sent over, but truly the boy's one of the best."

"Christ! That monster was one of yours?" Roger yelped. "None of us believed he could do anything until the cheeky pup jumped the man. He pumped two bullets into him and the guy was a UK citizen, Wammy!"

"He got the results the agency wanted," Wammy replied calmly. "They pull stunts all the time for shock value and couldn't get the guy to speak. In one session, that boy managed what the lot of you couldn't do in a week."

"Do you hear yourself?" Roger couldn't help the outrage creeping into his tone. "He was _eleven-years-old_. What could justify allowing _a child_ to be put in that situation and how the hell can you explain his ability to pull a trigger without hesitation like that?!"

"Practice. He has a gift and he exercises it every day." Wammy folded his hands as if that was all to the matter.

Roger snarled frustratingly, "As always you're very tight-lipped, but if you don't want this to go on all day, a week or God forbid, longer; it might behoove you to fill in some of the blanks with pertinent details that I find extremely necessary for my reports."

He had not forgotten how difficult Wammy could be when the man didn't want to share information. How they had managed so long as partners in the early stages of the agency still didn't make sense. Most likely because then he had been over-awed by the position. The dazzle had worn off and Roger had little patience with the throngs of policies and politics necessary to succeed there now. He wasn't about to admit it to Wammy who had left just as the new administration took over.

"Maybe we should have some tea while you have a chance to collect your thoughts and go through those reports more thoroughly. You don't seem to be appraised of the whole situation," Wammy said breaking through Roger's scattered mental ramblings.

He stood and went to a wall where he rang a bell. A different tinkling petered off moving along the walls quietly and he heard bustling again but from another direction behind him. "Our refreshments will arrive soon. Would you like me to help you go through these?" Wammy solicitously offered, coming back over to study the papers Roger had spread over the desk he had been provided. "You know they're the ones who suggested I try my hand at this."

"See if I can find that in my reports," Roger muttered.

"It's right here," Wammy supplied the offensive document before hurrying over to retrieve an extra-large tea tray from a kind-faced woman. "Thanks. We can manage on our own," he said quietly, dismissing her immediately.

"Here, have one. These scones are delicious," Wammy urged. He handed Roger tea and a scone-capped dessert plate. "Have you read this or this?" He pulled two reports from the stack as if he were more familiar with them than Roger, which if Roger weren't so busy stuffing his mouth, he'd have demanded how that could be.

"They've given you everything you need to make your report, Roger," Wammy explained, sitting down across from him and sipping at his own tea. "When did you get these papers, yesterday evening or this morning? You wouldn't be here if they had given them to you any earlier."

"Read here, I outlined my plans and hired accordingly. My instructors follow strict guidelines set by trained psychologists and psychiatrists who are designated to each child based upon their individual needs and talents. I have done nothing wrong but encourage these genii in cultivating behaviors and intelligence unfettered by society's strict dictates. They are free to explore every aspect of life and yet, they are confined to living in a controlled environment, one that cannot be swayed or altered by outside forces. Everything's as uniform as we can make it. Who can think it's wrong to create better futures for children who otherwise wouldn't have them?"

Roger could and _did_. The more he read, the more disturbing the whole setup felt. He didn't like the laissez faire attitudes the agency had about Wammy's proposal, because they indeed where the ones now acting not out of consideration for the children but fear of what might happen if they were found out. Apparently, higher-ups in central intelligence had caught whiff of the experiment and wanted to see the results. Wammy had refused, saying he hadn't agreed to fund Wammy House and to monitor these children to put them on display for government agencies. He claimed to really want to better these children's lives.

_What to say now?_ Roger looked up, considering how best to ask a man who had served his country loyally and gone above and beyond many times how it felt to cross the line. The direct approach was the most honest and Wammy was an old friend despite their lack of contact over the years. More importantly, they had been partners. "Human Subject Research? Really Wammy, you know that that's what this is." He couldn't keep the puzzlement out of his voice and figured there was no point in hiding it since he was being a blunt as he could be. "How? Why?"

"Even though you refuse to hand over your prized _subjects_ as they have asked on grounds that they're human; you've already broken the Nuremburg Code. They asked you to experiment and you complied and succeeded. What are these children to do now that they've no understanding beyond their lab-created worlds?"

"Let's take a tour," Wammy suggested, stacking the dirty dishes and ringing the bell to summon whoever it was that should take them away. "Maybe I can explain my side of the story better this way."

"Sure, okay," Roger complied, grabbing his papers and stuffing them back into the worn-out briefcase. "I can talk to anyone along the way. That's my stipulation."

"You may as long as you remain non-combative. If you try leading any of the children into incriminating this place or its dedicated staff, I will immediately have you thrown out," Wammy promised and Roger recognized the malice behind it if he dared disobey. He followed Wammy out into the hallway meekly, but fully alert and with his trained senses heightened.

Noise surrounded them immediately. Roger noticed none of the children acted bullied or demure as though they were fearful of those around them. Besides the overbearing sterility of the environment, he could find nothing amiss as he observed all ages of children filter in and out of rooms filled with puzzles, books, games, art supplies and an array of other educational tools. They passed a recreation room outfitted with an indoor pool, various exercise equipment and individual racket or paddle sports rooms. They passed a gun range, an equestrian riding stable and ring, courts for basketball, fields for football and rugby and another pool, outdoor this time. These children, as sheltered as they were, enjoyed a better well-stocked home than most!

"Over-indulgent, much?" Roger finally asked sarcastically as Wammy led him into a fully-glassed-paned hallway that the sun brightly lit.

Wammy grinned at him. "They're wonderful aren't they? This place too. It's my home. Why wouldn't I want them to feel the same way?"

To his dismay, Roger couldn't agree. The preview of Wammy's House only reaffirmed his fears. The place had been off limits to the public for very good reasons, none more so than the severe effect of the environment on the cursed genii smart enough to find themselves housed here. His instincts growing exponentially perturbed with each new revealed facet of this man-made Garden of Eden. The degree of outward normality in each of the subjects he had stopped along the tour combined with the safeguards in place to keep the data collection untainted amazed him as much as it appalled him.

"Every one is an orphan?" he asked, tamping down on his shock and disgust over what he was seeing.

"Yes," Wammy replied easily before inquiring brightly, "Ready to go on?"

Roger nodded. "None of them appear to be harmed by…," he trailed off.

How did you describe an orphanage created for the sole purpose of testing the limitations and intelligence of genii? Children genii for that matter. The extent to which he had been kept in the dark floored him. Human experimentation, of course was nothing new, especially in the recesses of most off-radar governmental departments, but these were children. And Wammy was... He corrected himself mentally. Wammy _is_ a civilian supposedly free of the "greater good" philosophy that justified every liberty taken by the power-mongering governments all over the world. How was he supposed to feel?

"Have any been harmed?" He pierced Wammy with a look that any soldier recognized. Untruths were not going to be tolerated. His inspection and the consequential report would be thorough and detailed.

"Truthfully, they all have been," Wammy explained, clearly unfazed by the question and easily meeting Roger's gaze. "How could they not? But who is to say if the damage is irreparable or that by coming here they aren't given a new start. What child doesn't long to belong, especially those that have lost their parents, siblings, their identities at such a young age?"

Roger gawked stupidly at the heartless nature of Wammy's argument before finding his voice. "They're human! Who knows the future? It's unpredictable… _and cannot be determined_. You should not be allowed to play God."

"Such dramatics, Roger. When did you become such a fuddy-duddy?" Wammy laughingly responded, clapping his companion's shoulder in a camaraderie way. "I care for them all, one especially. Would you like to meet him?"

"Uhm sure…," Roger gulped, off-balance and out of sorts with his natural curiosity. To him, Wammy's transparent affection for this boy was in definite odds with the transgressions he committed in the name of science.

He tried to regain some of his composure before blurting out, "But you still subject them to this scrutiny. No child should be expected to handle what you've done here. Don't you think eventually they're going to hate you for it?"

"L never did, but I know you're right. He's special and no one yet has managed his level of control or genius," Wammy mused, a strange paternal smile gracing his usual stoic features. "He's really quite brilliant, and I suspect he'll bring A and B to heel, but after that…" He stopped speaking to look pointedly at Roger. "But that's why you're here old friend."

"Me!" The exclamation came before Roger correctly guessed what Wammy meant. "Oh, I'm supposed to play the bad guy. Those bastards!"

"You didn't figure it out until now?" Wammy asked, disbelief etched into his features. "Of course, they always send the good guy to do their dirty work. They think it tempers the sting of betrayal this way. And how fortunate for them, you and I were friends of sort in the past and I feel compelled to share my secrets with you."

"How fortunate, indeed," Roger sneered angrily, the distaste of being manipulated by his superiors weighing on him just as heavily as the thought of making the wrong decision. "So what's next on the tour?"

Wammy stopped him with both hands placed parallel on his shoulders, forcing Roger to face him head-on. "From here, we meet with the purest sample. These children arrived before their cognitive abilities were fully developed. Completely blank slates if you don't factor in metacognition. It's here where you will find the necessary evidence to shut me down."

Time stood still for both men. Especially for the more persuasive of the two, a budding innovator who walked a very fine line between ethics and science. His every action went against natural law and yet the care and concern for his charges were evident in the precision and pains he took to protect them. He willingly looked after them and showed signs of actual parental adoration. A modern day Frankenstein?! Roger certainly thought that Wammy would not like that comparison. And yet, he wasn't being fair in his assumptions either. None of the miniature adults displayed freakish characteristics that would keep them from making it in the real world. In fact, most would likely succeed beyond any average child if given the chance to compete.

"What happens if I shut you down?" Fear and disappointment creeping into his tone with the thought of these children farmed out. Despite all rationality, Roger felt deep in his heart, if these children were ripped from here, they would struggle to regain balance and not be willingly embraced by their foster parents. The process of adoption would have to be catered to their special needs.

"Do you even bother finding families for any of them?" Roger accused, his torment over having the power to alter these children's future causing his voice to crack.

"Of course, Roger!" Wammy heartily affirmed. "What do you take me for? Wammy's House has a wonderful success rate too. I just…, didn't think you would be interested in those activities. The council mentioned how pleased they were to see those results already. I have been given written permission to keep my orphanage license."

More information kept from him. What the hell was his purpose here? He glared at Wammy. "Do you know why I am here? I'm confused. How can I justify shutting you down when nothing shows that your 'home for orphans' is anything but a safe haven? And you've just said you get to keep your license."

One of Wammy's eyebrows shot upwards in skeptical dismay. "You've behaved as if this entire place disgusted you throughout the tour. What's changed your mind?"

"Nothing. Not all human experimentation is inhumane. I can see you're doing your best to cultivate their genius. Just because I think it's wrong to try and mold children into what you think is best for them, doesn't make it illegal or even outrageous. Most parents attempt it on their own and without support staff."

Laughing nervously, Roger looked beyond to the doors at the end of the corridor. "Whatever's back there? A Monster Study? Really, Wammy, you're right. I don't know why I am so worked up. So far, you've been nothing if not overly attentive to these children. You might want to cut back on the competition you force upon them and the rankings, but other than that, you have parameters and defenses in place to keep them from losing their minds over the intensity of their… training, for lack of a better word."

Roger was right to be anxious. Wammy's eyebrow didn't lower, but the cynical smile now filling out his face came too late for any warning. "Let's just say a life-long stuttering disability is the least of your concerns once we enter that observation area."

Wammy began walking towards the door, and Roger had to mentally tell himself to walk before his feet moved again of their own accord. "What'd you mean by that?"

"You really are naïve. After all these years, you still believe the world to be a mundane, boring place. But it's not," Wammy chided as he matched the hesitant pace Roger now adopted. "You never did have any imagination, did you? Still reading those books on insects for entertainment?"

That stung. "I'll have you know that I'd worked myself into a ripe tizzy after the tribunal's briefing that I expected something of a lair with lightning bolt's zig-zagging along mad-scientist inventions to bring back the dead when I arrived," Roger bristled. "I am quite happy to find this alternative," he noted sheepishly.

He had come to a complete stop during his tirade and now realized what a fool he must look but continued on determinedly, unwilling to let himself be bullied by Wammy. "Why are you dissecting me? Bugs are rather fascinating creatures," he retorted. Weak as that attack was; he went with it.

"So are humans," Wammy said, a hint of censure in his voice as he stared Roger down. "The things humans can endure. You have no idea and you've survived war."

Before Roger could get a word in edge-wise, Wammy abruptly changed the topic. His arms folded across his chest, stance defensive, he asked, "What do you want to do with the rest of your life, Roger?"

"Huh?"

"I've heard you've been plying the command center for a desk job? Was this the final task before they let you quit the field?"

"Sure, I suppose," Roger answered unassuredly, but continued on before Wammy could begin another attack. "I'm done with these games. Get to the point, Wammy. And what's so special behind those doors that you're willing to stake your own reputation on it? Are you asking me to not shut you down, because if you think I'll be swayed by friendship and promises of a desk job than you don't know me?"

"No I am not. I wanted to test your mettle," Wammy said honestly. "You aren't ready for this, but I have no choice. I need you to be willing to keep quiet about what you're about to see. It's of international importance."

Roger's head was shaking side-to-side. "Don't pull this shit with me," he began. He looked up at Wammy, composed and stoic as always, and felt his anger build. "What are you playing at?"

"This is no game, but my identity and those behind these doors do matter more than your mission, and one might I remind you, you're not chuffed about. When we enter there, you become privy to the biggest secret since, well never, because there isn't any thing else that can compare."

Wammy saw that Roger wasn't convinced. "Ever heard of L?"

That got Roger's attention. His head jerked upwards and astonishment crossed his features before he quickly squashed it. "Sure, who hasn't?"

"You have in fact met Watari twice on occasion, and you worked exclusively with the famed detective on the Southampton massacre. Is my information accurate?" Wammy inquired as if his knowledge weren't state secrets.

"How do you know this? I am rarely brought in to profile, but the massacre. They thought I would be useful." Roger sounded resentful and he was. They hadn't even allowed him to leave the office to examine the evidence. He was given reports and told to make analyses based upon other people's conclusions. It had been a royal fucking mess until Watari and the computer-generated L had shown up. They requested he be given free reign to research as he liked. With his findings, L had solved and shut the case within two days. He owed Watari and L, and he didn't care to owe favors to anyone.

Comprehension fell over Roger's features. He stared hard at Wammy. How convenient that all this time begging for a chance to prove himself, not until L and Watari show up, did he get that chance. There's always a catch. Dammit!

"Bloody excellent strategizing," Roger said resignedly, steadily avoiding Wammy's gaze as he went ramrod straight, clicked both heels and mocked saluted as if facing a superior officer. "Reporting for duty, sir!"

However, he couldn't help adding surly, "So do I get to play God?" when he finally met Wammy's eyes, twinkling with amusement.

"You'll have to ask L," was the cryptic reply. "I work for him."


End file.
